Jak X2
by Raikeira
Summary: What happens when Naughty Dog forgets to finish their stories? Morgan finishes 'em for them, in her own way. Everyone's looking for a piece of Jak, and everyone he knows gets dragged along for the ride. Set shortly after Jak X. Read and enjoy.
1. Chapter 1:The Hell?

_**Yeah, recently I had some ideas pop into my head about what could happen after Jak X. You all know it didn't just END, not with a closing cinematic like that. So here I am, continuing, with my crazy humor/spy thriller ideas. :3**_

**_Don't be quick to judge, or flame._**

* * *

_**...The Hell?**_

Having just saved himself and his friends from certain death via poisoning, Jak felt a bit exhilarated. He had been shot at, chased, attacked, blown up, and poisoned, _and_ had lived to tell the tale. But what was standing before him now seemed much, _much_ worse, and certainly could have only come from the deepest and darkest of his nightmares. It was horrible-that was the only way he could describe it. Bright pink hair, freakishly large eyes, and a mouthful of large teeth-

Jak realized this horrible creature could only be one thing. A female teenage fan.

"_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_," the girl standing in front of him gushed. "It's really you! You're that famous racer, Jak! Oh my God, I can't believe it! Am I dreaming? Oh my God, I totally, like, can't wait to tell my friends!" The way she talked could be described as nothing short of ranting. To Jak, it was simply annoying.

Before he could even react to what was happening, a small device was pulled out of her pants pocket, and Jak heard a distinct _click _noise that sounded a bit like the shutter of a camera. With sudden feelings of irritation forming in the pit of his stomach, he realized he'd been photographed.

"Er...can we help you?" Daxter asked, sounding a little aggravated. When _Daxter_ was reacting negatively to a woman, something was definitely wrong.

"Yes! Um...can you like, sign an autograph for me? Please?" the girl begged.

"Look, lady, I really don't have time for it. I'm kind of busy right now, and I have better things to do," Jak replied coldly. '_Like watch out for any hitmen who might be pissed off at the man who killed their leader,'_ he thought. He turned to leave-

"_Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaasssssseeeeeeeee_?" Jak stopped, and cringed. _What the **hell**?!?_ The word sounded like it'd been dragged four miles across rocky roads covered in rusty nails and busted glass.

_Holy_ _**Precursors**, the girl's voice was high_. Jak wondered how it could even be detected by human ears.

"Hey, didn't you hear me?" Jak snapped, glaring at her. "I don't have time to sign any autographs right now, so leave me alone."

"_**Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaasssssseeeeeeeee**_?"

"Aaaugh! Jak, make it stop!" Daxter screeched from his spot atop Jak's shoulder, digging his claws into his neck.

Apparently, this girl had spent the entire racing season doing nothing but looking at Jak's race earnings and hero's body, because she didn't seem to know or care that, deep inside him, there was a killing machine of a monster whose claws could rip through metal (or bone and muscle) like paper. Jak also guessed that if she _did _know about Dark Jak, she wasn't comphrehending the fact that what she was doing was irritating him to the point of letting him loose.

"If I sign your damn autograph, will you leave me the hell alone?" he growled. Why was this girl being so pushy, anyway? Normal fans did _not_ do this sort of thing.

"Uh-huh," she nodded eagerly, smiling, not seeming to notice his angry demeanor.

Jak sighed, his breath escaping past his lips in a short, irritated burst. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. "Fine. So, give me a piece of paper or a pen, or whatever."

"...Um..."

"What _now_?!" Jak practically shouted.

"Well, I have a pen, but I don't have any paper on me. I do have some in my car, though," she finished thoughtfully.

"O...kay, where's your car, then?" Jak asked impatiently.

The girl jerked her thumb vaguely behind her. "It's parked right in that alley, there..."

**Alley**. Ah, _hell no_. Six days after killing off a major crime lord, Jak wasn't exactly keen on wandering into any allies with strangers. However, before he could voice his opinion, Daxter did it for him.

"Look, there is _no way _I'm wandering into any allies, so _forget it_, sister!" the ottsel shouted.

Jak thought he saw a mischevious look flash in the girl's eyes. "Well, then I guess you could sign it here, then," she said, pulling down the neckline of her shirt...

"_No_!" Jak yelled, turning his head and placing his hand in the way of the offending view. "Fine, I'll sign your paper, but _make it quick_, or I swear, you'll regret it."

If Jak could have his way, she would've already regret it. To be truthful, Jak honestly wished he was in Spargus, where he _could_ have his way. He really, truly did. Actually, he was beginning to have a daydream about it already...

_

* * *

"**Ohmygodohymygodohmygod**," the girl gushed. _

_Jak promtly pulled out his blaster gun and shot her, right between the eyes. Shaking his head, he watched her body crumple to the ground._

_Passing civillians smiled and flashed him thumbs-up signs, albeit somewhat discreetly._

_"**Nice shot, partner**!" Daxter complimented._

_Jak smirked.

* * *

_

"So, are you coming, or what?" the girl asked him, obviously confused at his smirk, which he was actually doing in real life.

"Wh-? ...Oh. Yeah." Jak stammered, coming back from his (pleasant) daydream.

As the shadow of the alley passed over him, he began to feel uneasy. He looked around and saw a car, but no girl. The feelings of unease greatened. Jak could feel both his alter ego eco forms warning him somehow, and he decided it was a good time to leave. Somehow, it seemed the crazed fan tactics of that girl had lured Jak, who had been literally irritated into cooperating, into some sort of bad situation.

"Uh, Jak? I'm getting some bad vibes here. I think we should just forget it, and leave," Daxter said, jumping off his shoulder and proceeding to walk out of the alley.

As Jak turned to leave as well, he heard someone land behind him. Something cold, which he guessed was a gun, was pressed into his neck.

"**_Ack_**! Heh heh, sorry, sugar. We didn't mean any of it, honest," Daxter said, turning to face Jak's captor and attempting to apologize.

"Don't move. You're both under arrest," Jak heard the girl say.

"Says who?" he spat back at her, crossing his arms over his chest angrily.

"Says the Kras City Police Department," she replied, pressing it deeper into his neck.

"Ooooo, nice badge. Very shiny," Daxter remarked sarcastically. Jak attempted to crane his neck to look, but the gun pressed to the back of his neck sort of discouraged any movement.

_Official Authority Figure...Damn. It_. And he was having a relatively good day, too.

* * *

Yeah, if you think this is a story about how Jak gets assaulted by a Mary Sue and has to escape-no. Just no. Sorry my friends, it's a bit deeper than that. 


	2. Chapter 2: Jak's Patience is Tried

Heh. Sorry it took so long to get this up-I've been really busy lately getting my Christmas presents together. But now I'm on break, so expect some chapters coming up soon. And for this one, I actually have most of the plot points worked out. Still, I might work on like, a oneshot or something sometime while I work out the kinks in it.

* * *

_**Jak's Patience is Tried (again)**_

"Turn around. Slowly," the woman commanded. Jak complied, frowning deeply. The first thing he saw was the barrel of a gun, pointing directly at him. He glanced past it. Yep, it was that girl all right. What the hell kind of city was this, where crazed teenage fans suddenly turned into law enforcement?

"And to _who_ do we owe the honor? Officer..." Daxter trailed off, gesturing for her to finish the phrase.

"None of your business."

"What kind of city arrests people for no reason?" Jak asked bitterly, scowling. _Blast it, how many cities were going to try and arrest him?_

"This one, I guess," Daxter answered. "And by the way, you just lost _loads_ of money towards your vacationing industry, Officer None of Your Business, 'cuz we are _not_ comin' back!"

"You won't even be leaving when we're done with you, and _trust me_, I'm not losing _any_ sleep over it. And it's ma'am to you, idiot."

"What exactly _is_ the reason why we're being arrested..._Ma'am_?" Jak asked. "Last time I checked, we didn't do anything wrong."

"Shut up!" the officer barked at him. "Don't play dumb, you know _exactly_ why you're going downtown."

"No, I don't," Jak replied, rolling his eyes. "Why do you think I'm asking?"

"_Smartass_!"

Jak tapped his foot impatiently on the concrete ground. He was going to be late for something if he didn't get off the hook soon, and he did _not_ want to be late for where he was going. He watched the sun dip a little lower in the sky, skimming the top of the alley wall, and grimaced. Why did every single bothersome problem in the world have to target him? Maybe he had no luck?

He sighed. "...No, seriously. I want to hear a reason."

"Jak Mar and friend Daxter, wanted for connections to gang lord Rayn and deceased father, Krew, for possession of illegal weapons, and for the murder of one G.T. Blitz," the woman recited, almost as if from a cue-card.

_Moron_, Jak thought. _Get your facts straight_.

"Look, you've got it all wrong," he said. "I didn't know that Rayn was working for her father until about six days ago. I haven't had connections with her since. G.T. Blitz is not G.T Blitz, either, he's Mizo, the crime boss."

"Yeah, really!" Daxter cut in. "You should know, it was broadcasted world-wide on the T.V. Get with the times, why don'cha?"

"I don't watch television," the woman replied.

"Then that's your problem, not mine," Jak retorted. "But really, you should be thanking me instead of pointing a gun at my head-I saved you a lot of effort by killing Mizo."

"...There's still the problem of possession of illegal weapons," the woman started weakly.

"Have fun arresting every one else in the city." Jak's patience was wearing thin, and his obnoxious sarcasm was starting to show it. Jak promised himself that, if this kept up much longer, he'd just go Dark Jak and impale her with his claws. Horrible thoughts, yes, but it truly was getting _that bad_.

"What about you racing for Krew's team? You just don't do that for no reason. You must've known what he had done the past and had connections with him," pressed the officer.

"I _did_ know what he did in the past," Jak replied. "He was a fat bastard who manipulated, lied, cheated, and stole. And you're right, people _don't_ work for Krew for no reason._ I _didn't. I was poisoned, and forced to race or die. Simple as that."

"A likely story." A very cliched phrase; Jak was almost surprised he heard it.

"No, not really. And besides, there's witnesses to the poisoning. _AND," _he said, before she could intercept his remark, _"_ this is not my city of residence. You have no authority to arrest me."

_That's right, I'm not some common idiot. I know how your laws work_, Jak thought bitterly.

"Yeah, that's Ashelin's job!" Daxter added.

"Yeah. Thanks Dax," Jak said flatly. _Everything I just said, the fancy law crap, you just ruined it._

"...So, you're the one who killed Mizo?"

This conversation, Jak decided, was going nowhere. A very stupid, pointless question was asked, and

There was a long, silent pause.

_Enough, dammit! _DarkJak screamed inside his head. He was starting to lose his temper, which wasn't good. Suddenly, without any_ real _control over what he was doing, Jak ducked beneath the aim of her gun and tackled the woman to the ground. His sudden movement shocked her into firing, and a bullet whizzed over Daxter's head, just barely missing the tips of his ears. Jak tried wrestling the gun out of the officer's hands, and it fired shots off in almost every direction. Screeching in protest, Daxter dove towards the ground to avoid another spray of bullets. Finally, Jak mangaed to get a hold of the weapon, and he threw it; it clattered to the ground and slid a ways before coming to a stop.

She kicked out, and a metal-tipped boot made contact with Jak's stomach, knocking him backwards and leaving a sizable gash in his stomach. Cursing loudly, he clutched his stomach. When he looked at his hands again, the palms were completely covered in red, and sticky. Covered in his own blood. Inwardly, he groaned. _Great, just great_.

"_JAK_!" Daxter screeched.

The woman was standing up, trying to get her hands on her weapon again. Ignoring the fact that he was now bleeding profusely, Jak lunged again and tackled her. The two rolled a couple of times, coming to a stop when Jak collided with the alley wall. With a painful throbbing in his head adding to the pain in his stomach, Jak simply grabbed the woman by her shoulders, then performed a headbutt that successfully managed to knock her out. He pushed her off of him in disgust and leaned back, sitting on his knees. Though his hands were covered with his own blood, he rubbed his temples; he now had a pounding headache, to top it all off. He had been irritated, gotten into trouble with the law, then attacked. And now he had a headache.

Really, he had gotten _thisclose _toundergoing the full transformation into Dark Jak If that would've happened, he knew the woman would be more than unconscious at the moment...

"You okay, Jak?" Daxter asked tentatively.

"Yea-"

_"Incoming message." _

The alert was coming from the officer's car, and before Jak could react, a holographic head popped up above the dashboard of the car. The head of Rayn. Jak cringed. Fortunately, it was only a one-way message, and Rayn couldn't see _him_.

"Mira!" she said urgently. "If you've captured Jak, I need a message back as soon as you can send one. And try to get as much information on what he's been doing as you possibly can. And if you haven't apprehended Jak by now, remember _not_ to kill him, no matter what. It's crucial that he lives long enough to-"

There was a pause in the holographic feedback, and a beep. Jak anxiously waited for the message to resume...

"Ugh, I have another message coming through. I'll get back to you later. Goodbye." The image of Rayn's holographic head fizzled and clicked off, and the car's automated voice notified them that the message was ended.

"No!" Jak shouted. "Lives long enough to _what_?" He punched the side of the vehicle, leaving a sizable dent. "_Damn_!"

"Jak, that's not _all_ we have to worry about!" Daxter shouted back. "Did you notice how that _police officer _is working for _Rayn_?!"

"We don't even know if she_ is _a police officer, Dax. At first, I thought she was a deranged fan, and I was wrong about that. Seems like something's up," Jak thought aloud. "We might have stumbled into something we might not want to be involved with. I wonder if-"

Suddenly, an obnoxious synthetic ring sang out, interrupting his statement. Jak hastily pulled a communicator-phone device from his pocket and flipped open the lid. There was a message for him, reading simply, **_'Where are you?' _**

Remembering how late it was getting, Jak cursed. He dragged the woman, Mira, into the seat of her car, grunting from the effort, then ran out of the alley to his car. As soon as Daxter jumped in with him, he quickly flipped a few switches on his dashboard and hit the ignition button with the side of his fist. The engine roared to life, and they sped off, car tires screeching.

Jak was halfway to his destination before he realized he was covered in blood. Cursing yet again, he slammed on the brakes, slid, and turned the car around.

"Uh...Jak?" Daxter seemed a bit confused. Maybe he was just used to Jak being covered in blood, after all the nasty, gory things they'd been through together.

"Gotta make a quick stop," he replied. "Clean up a little, you know?"

Jak wasn't even sure if his car completely stopped, but he jumped out anyways and sprinted into his temporary residence, an apartment near the water. Unlike Haven City, residential parts of the city weren't sterotypically sectioned off as _rich _or _poor_, they were just sort of grouped together, sort of like a collage.

After fiddling with his keys after what seemed an eternity, Jak entered his apartment and made a beeline for the bathroom. He hastily tore his clothes off and jumped in the shower, not waiting for the water to heat up. He emerged three minutes later, shivering, but clean. With a towel around his waist, he rummaged through his bathroom cabinets searching for bandages. Jak wrapped them around his middle, and rushed so much as to make them too tight. He didn't care.

However, there was one good thing about his bleeding all over his jacket: he would've surely forgotten to change otherwise and showed up to where he was going in casual dress (which would have been, considering the circumstances, embarrassing). Around ten minutes later, he was dressed (somewhat) formally, and ready to leave.

"What, you're just going to leave me here?" Daxter complained.

"Yep," Jak replied, with a quick wave as he went out the door.

Driving down the road, he was well aware of the fact that he was past the legal speeding limit by about 96 miles per hour. But hey, he was late, and he didn't care. And after all, it paid off, for he arrived shortly in the parking lot of one of the city's most popular fine restaurants. He practically threw his keys at a valet, who scrambled to catch them. The poor man looked so flustered as it was glancing at Jak's screaming metal deathtrap of a car, when he accidentally ran into another vehicle catching Jak's keys and set the alarm off, Jak almost felt sorry for him. Almost: he didn't quite have time to feel sorry for people.

Then there were the troubles with the 'greeter'. Jak had entered the restaurant in a huff, and hastily rushed up to a dark-haired woman with a clipboard and gave his name.

"Jak, Jak...Jak...Oh, there!" she said, moving her finger down the list of names on her clipboard and stopping when she reached his name. "Your party has already arrived, but...You know, sir, we require formal dress at this restaurant," the greeter told him.

"This is a dinner jacket. It's formal," Jak pointed out, grabbing the sleeve and showing her.

"There are dinner jackets, and then there are _dinner jackets_, sir."

There was a short pause, as Jak simply glared at the woman.

"_Are you making fun of me_?"

"No, I'm simply stating that this is a top-notch place, and we don't allow people inside in casual dress." It seemed she was at least making attempts to be polite to him. But then again, that was her job, so Jak wasn't giving her any points for that.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it? Go out and buy a tie?" Jak snapped. "Seriously, I am having a bad day and I'm not one to pis-aggravate right now." Jak figured swearing wouldn't help his situation much.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but-"

Jak interrupted her by pulling out his wallet and thrusting a few money bills in her direction. A last resort. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"...I'll see what I can do."

_Yeah, I'll bet you will_, Jak thought. Of all the qualities in people that he hated, greediness was at least in the top five; it bugged him how it seemed like people would do anything just to get their hands on a bit of extra cash. Really though, it'd always been that way, even back in Sandover Village. There was always the villagers who wouldn't part with their power cells unless given _ninety_ precursor orbs, even when they didn't really need them.

Sighing, he pulled up a chair at his table and sat. An angry woman sat across from him, tapping her fingers impatiently against the white tablecloth.

"You're late, Jak."

* * *

Yep, there it is. Expect another chapter within a week or less.

Morgan


	3. Chapter 3: Again?

Holy lord, it's freaking long! Heh, I would have gotten it in sooner, but ya know, Christmas and all that. Plus I've spent most of my time obsessively trying to play Victor's Piano Solo...ah, whatever. Read, please._**

* * *

**_

_**Again?!?**_

"You're late, Jak." Keira's voice was filled with anger. Judging by her dress (a beautiful, shimmering aquamarine color, most likely expensive) and her hair (which looked like hours had been spent on it), Keira had tried hard to make herself look good for the occasion. And now, she looked more than a little hurt. Jak immediately felt worse for being late.

"...I know," Jak replied weakly.

Keira pointed to the silver watch around her left wrist. "Do you have any idea how late it is?"

"I got here as fast as I could," Jak attempted. _Lame._

"What'd you do, walk?" Keira asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"..." Jak went to say something but decided against it-whatever he said would probably hurt him more than help him. Precursors, this was not going well. Give him a metalhead to shoot, a race to win, or a world to save, fine; ask him to talk to an angry woman, one he _loved_...well, you'd have problems.

"Well?! Jak, _why are you late_? There's no missions, no war, no race for you to win, no world to save," Keira counted the excuses off on her slender fingers. "Why is it that you always have time for other people's problems but you don't have time for _me_?! The one time we have a date and you can't have time for us? I don't need all of your attention, but I do require _some_ of it! Why, Jak? _Why_? Don't you care?" Keira was now on the verge of tears.

"Keira, I-" Jak started, but was interrupted by a horrible lurching feeling in his stomach, like he was going to be sick. It wasn't nervousness or anything. It was just...weird. Then there was a a sharp, sudden feeling of searing pain, like being stabbed with hot metal. He could feel the sensation spreading through his entire body, waves of what felt like high-voltage electricity. He glanced at his fingers; purple sparks crackled from the tips. Dark eco. Not a good sign.

"Excuse me for a second," he said, jumping up from his seat and rushing towards the restroom, nearly colliding with a waiter in the process.

Once through the door, Jak saw himself in the mirror. Skin fading to an ashen grey, eyes darkening to black, cold, emotionless pits-signs of who, or what, he called 'Dark'. Gasping for breath, he locked himself in the handicapped stall and sank to the floor, clutching his stomach, his source of pain. Then there was the transformation, which was _painful_. In all the years he'd had dark eco abilities, it had never really gotten any easier to turn into Dark.

He was clutching his middle, doubled over, clawing at the wall, panting, and roaring in pain. Jak felt his senses come into sharp focus, as they always did when he made the shift. He could see, smell, and sense every little thing around him. If so much as a drop of water moved, Jak would know.

It was always bad news when he had dark eco in his system, but no light eco. If he didn't use _that_ to heal himself, the dark eco would naturally take over-like it always had in the past. Light eco was merely something he could use-Dark eco was permanently fused into his DNA. And dark eco healing was not nearly as painless as light eco healing.

He could feel it happening in him now. Genetically altered DNA code in his nerves, filled with dark eco, were relaying messages to his brain to rapidly regenerate the section of his body that was injured. Nothing else mattered, his body told him; Jak could feel himself losing his sense of awareness, and all he could hear was what was happening inside him. It was the dark eco-amplifying the sound of the fast-paced beating of his heart, drumming loudly and threatening to beat itself out of his chest. His breathing, rapid and shallow, blood coursing through his veins. All echoing through his ears. And then there was a weird tittering sound, like thousands of spiders walking down a wall at the same time. He recognized it-the sound of dark healing. New dark eco-filled cells were forming, probably at the rate of ten-thousand per second, knitting over the wound and pulling the skin and muscle tissue back together. Louder and louder his heartbeat and breathing grew, so loud he could hardly bear it.

Then: Nothing. Every feeling, every sound-everything was gone, as soon as it came.

Panting uneven, quick breaths, Jak pulled open his shirt and roughly tore off his bandages. There it was-a small section of purple(gash-shaped) in the center of his abdomen, omitting tiny violet sparks, but slowly fading to the normal pink of a healed wound. Within a week, there probably wouldn't even be a scar.

Jak glanced at the wall. Five jagged slashes were cut through through the blue tile. _Whoops_. He didn't remember doing that...

Slowly, he stood on shaky legs, tucked his shirt in, and stepped outside his stall. He turned on one of the sinks and splashed a little cold water on his face. Another man came out of a stall on the wall opposite his, and promptly washed his hands and left, all the while giving Jak odd looks. When it dawned on him, a smirky smile formed on Jak's lips, and he left chuckling.

However, his strengthened senses were still momentarily in effect, and warning vibes quickly spread through Jak's body. Though he hated listening to Dark's gravelly, throaty voice, he closed his eyes and let his alter ego pinpoint the threat...

_'Not in the restaurant. Outside. A rumbling...an engine? Maybe four thousand feet away, at the most. Wheels...moving it at about one-eleven miles per hour, coming from east, westward. This way. Maybe...one and a quarter tons? Heavy armor, probably. ...Something new! Clicking...rapid clicking...weapons? ...Twin machine guns. Front placed.' _

It was always strange having someone else's voice in his head. 'Dark Jak' and 'Light Jak' were always talking to him inside his mind, telling him what to do and what desicions to make. They bickered so much, Jak made himself learn to stop listening altogether, except for special occasions. This was one of them.

_Twin machine guns, headed this way?_ Jak felt his heart skip a beat. _'Seriously?'_

_'My senses don't lie, Jak,' _Dark said_. 'Have I ever been wrong before? But who knows, I am a little tired.' _With that, his voice faded into the darkness.

Suddenly, Jak could hear it, too. With his normal senses. The loud roaring of a car's engine and the sound of firing guns, getting louder by the second. His first thought went to Keira, sitting alone at their table, which was against the wall directly parallel to a large glass window. Jak broke into a sprint, weaving through tables and waiters and standing guests.

"Keira!" he shouted. He thought he heard glass crack behind him, possibly because bullets were hitting it.

Hearing him, Keira sharply turned around. Green eyes widening, she abruptly stood up. "Jak? Is something wrong?" she asked, confused.

In reply, he dove to the ground (dragging her with him), just as a large car burst through the glass window. Shattered glass rained down upon them, and several bullets lodged themselves in the wall just above where Keira had been standing only seconds before. Jak looked up, and through the new scene of panic, saw three armed men get out of the car. Each of their faces were mostly hidden by brown scarves, but he could still pick out a few facial details that would be useful in a report to Ashelin.

"We're looking for the blonde one," he heard the driver say. He had dark hair, and Jak could make out the start of a scar just below his right eye, which was mostly covered by his scarf. Jak guessed, because he was giving orders, that he was the commander of the trio.

"Got it, boss," another replied, raking a hand through his spiky, electric blue hair. He turned to his other accomplice, a large man with a black bandana covering his head. "Got it, buddy? Hey, whassa' matter? You're a little quiet back there. Scared?"

In response, the third man simply glared at him with his beady, dark eyes and showed him a rude gesture. This was a man Jak thought unwise to cross. He was big (at least seven feet tall), and burly. Probably born to kill.

"...Jak?" Keira squeaked, from underneath him, eyes wide with confusion and fear. "What's goin-" Before she could finish, he clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking his hand frantically. _No_, he mouthed. He put a finger to his lips and began crawling in the general direction of the hole in the glass (the closest escape), picking out a route through underneath nearby tables. The fact that most of the people nearby were screaming and/or running about in panic helped considerably to hide their attempt at escape. However, when they were at the last table that could possibly be used for cover, Jak felt someone grab onto his leg and pull him back.

"Got'cha now!" Jak recognized the voice of the man with blue hair. Thankfully it wasn't the huge one, if that would've been the case he would've been dead for sure. In the uncomfortable position he was in, he turned over as best he could and glared at the assassin.

"Hello there," the man said, pulling his scarf down to reveal a toothy grin. In response, Jak grabbed the gun from the assassin's belt and whacked him in the chest. Suprised, he briefly loosened his grip on Jak's leg. The hero kicked him, and pulled loose, then grabbed the white tablecloth dangling directly above him and roughly yanked it down. The contents of someone's meal rained upon him, and Jak picked out a couple swear words underneath the sounds of breaking glass. On a second thought, he shoved the table down on top of him as well. Seeing the man's gun on the ground, he picked that up as well. "Thanks very much."

"Let's move," he told Keira, grabbing her arm and pulling her up to her feet. The two took off at a run, bullets from the other two men barely missing their rapidly moving feet. They snaked around the building, finally arriving at the parking valet's podium near the front.

"They stopped shooting," Keira noted thoughtfully.

"Keys. Now," Jak said to the valet in his best authoratic voice, gesturing for them. Seeing the gun in his hand, the frantic man tossed the keys from his shaking hands into Jak's outstretched one.

"Jak..." Keira said in a warning tone, finding his vehicle with her eyes.

"What?"

"Stack parking," she replied.

"Ah, shit." His car was completely surrounded by vehicles, albeit of people who were leaving. Still, he knew who the target was in this fiasco, and it didn't take him long to make a desicion on what to do. He took off at a run. "Whatever, we're driving."

"What?!" Keira screeched, chasing after him.

"Trust me," he said, climbing into the driver's seat and grinning. "You build these; you know what they can do."

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to-"

"Just...trust me," Jak replied, cutting her off.

"It's a one seat car," Keira objected. Here the two of them were, in the middle of an argument when three assassins were after their blood.

"We don't have time for this," Jak said, glancing around worriedly. "Jump in, I'll make room."

"N-" Keira began, but was interrupted when a spray of bullets ricoched against the side panel of the car; she screeched and dropped to the ground. After a while, her head popped up. "Okay."

When Keira was in the seat, sitting right behind him, he started the car and gunned it. The vehicle lurched forward and over the foreign-looking vehicle in front of them(a car with an interior, not just an empty metal frame!), crushing it into an almost rectangular shape. However, the engine must've still been hot at the time, for the car set on fire and shortly exploded, showering them with burning debris. Fortunately, their car was already on the road by the time it did.

Jak swore, wiping his face and shaking the hot material out of his hair with his hand. He took off at top speed, hoping not to be shot at.

"Something must've leaked when we crushed it-I told you not to run it over," Keira said, shaking the debris off her own head. Jak pretended to ignore her.

"...They still following us?" he finally asked, frowning, after it was quiet for a while.

Keira tried turning and stood up slightly, accidentally pressing down on his head with her hand. The car swerved.

"Ouch! Geez! Hey, stop it," he complained, trying to keep himself from steering the vehicle into a wall.

"_Me_ stop it?" she replied, almost falling as the car swerved again. "You stop, what're you trying to do, kill me? ...I think we lost 'em," she added.

Suddenly, the car of the assassins appeared around the next corner in front of them.

"Damn! Guess not," Jak said. He glanced at his front-weapons gage. Low. Scratch that, empty. His heart sank. Then he remembered-

"Keira! Shoot!" he commanded, momentarily taking a hand off the control to hand her the weapon he had taken.

"_WHAT_?!? No, _you_ shoot it! _I'll_ drive!" she argued.

"There's not time! Shoot it-trust me, if you hit it in the right spot, it'll do the job. Aim for a wheel. And don't forget to lead in." Jak added, as the car began to fire upon them. The gun he took was a peacemaker; he wondered what exactly they were expecting from him when they bursted into the restaurant. Probably Dark, but he knew better than to transform himself into that atrocity near Keira, lest he do something he'd later regret. From behind him, Keira squeezed her eyes shut, looked away, and fired. She opened them as the electric blast hit the car right in the front wheel.

"**_Hit_**! Now they're hurting!" Keira cheered from behind him. Even in times of peril, her true cheery nature could show through. The car careened out of control, barely missing them, and collided with a wall to the right.

"Nice shot," Jak complimented, though it really was nothing but luck.

Within a few minutes, Jak was back at his apartment. He scootched forwards to let Keira out, then swung himself out of it onto his feet, landing next to her. She glanced at him and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Keir," Jak apologized. She regarded it with a wave of her hand and proceeded to walk to the front door. The apartment was dark-no lights were on that he could see.

Jak knocked. "Dax? You alive in there?" They waited. After what had happened at the restaurant, Jak instantly began regretting his choice of words. What if something had happened? He knocked again, louder and faster. "_Daxter_!" The doorknob finally turned, and the door opened a crack.

He exhaled in relief. "Dax! What took you so long?"

"Sorry, Jak, didn't hear-WHOA! What happened to you two?" he asked, noticing their bedraggled appearance. Their were tiny crystals of glass on each of them, and their faces were smeared with soot from the explosion's debris. Keira was still holding the gun.

"There was a little...problem at the restaurant," Jak said sheepishly. He led Keira to his worn sofa and she plopped down on it, dropping the weapon to the floor and rubbing her temples.

"Like what!? Did it blow up or something?"

"Kind of." The window did, at least. And someone's car.

"What do you mean, kinda? It looks like you two have been through a battle or somethin'!"

"Oh really?"

Jak sat down next to Keira and absentmindedly placed an arm across the couch behind her, more out of habit than through actual thinking. If the nearness bothered her (she was probably still angry at him), she was too exhausted to do anything about it. She simply pulled her hair out of its style, letting it fall across her face in messy layers, and leaned her head against his arm wearily. He looked at her slowly closing her eyes, them smiled slightly and pulled her closer. Jak then proceeded to tell Daxter the entire story, except for the parts with Dark, though they were subtly implied. Jak didn't think Keira was awake any longer-but he didn't want to take a chance. He didn't like talking about Dark in front of Keira; he figured it upset her. It would be just another thing for her to complain to him about; he knew she didn't like the dark eco at all, didn't like how it changed him.

"So you two were attacked?" Daxter asked, after he was finished. "By, you think, people working for _Rayn_?"

"Yeah."

"You're bleeding, Jak," Keira said, to both of their surprise. She sat back up, gave her head a quick shake, and, squinting through sleepy eyes, located the spot and pointed.

"Wh-huh?" Jak said, reaching back with his other arm. He felt along his shoulder blade and winced; a piece of glass was jutting out from the skin, embedded in the muscle. Then he felt another. And another. And four more near the other. He guessed he hadn't noticed before due to the adrenaline. But now...shit, it hurt.

"It's just glass," he told her, attempting to hide his pain. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, beginning to wake up again. She stretched. "Just a little tired, and dirty. Can I use your shower?"

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Down the hall, second door to the left."

"Mm-hm, I know." With that, she was gone, and it was just him and Daxter.

"So...what's up between you two?" Daxter asked.

"Nothin'," Jak replied.

"Didn't seem like nothin'," Daxter retorted. "She seems mad, you seem ornery."

"Look, things just didn't go well tonight. We got frickin' _attacked_," Jak said. He looked at his hands, scratched up and covered with dirt. "And it wasn't going good to begin with-I was late, and...you know."

"Didn't you tell her _why_ you were late?" Daxter asked.

"_No_! _I don't want to burden her with my problems, plus she'll be worried about me-as if she didn't already worry about me enough. I just want her to be happy, and safe. All of you should just leave me alone! I'm not even that great of a guy, and I'm constantly putting everyone's life in danger just by knowing them. Keira could've died tonight. We almost got shot about four times, and blown up, and-"_

What Jak really said was, "I don't want to talk about it. Leave me alone." He folded his arms and turned away, glaring at the floor. Some things he just didn't like to say openly. Not even to Daxter, his greatest friend. He couldn't help it, it was just his way.

"Jak, _chill_."

Jak looked up. "What?"

"I said _chill_. Hey, I've been sitting on your uncomfortable shoulder for a total of _four years_, I know you by now. Kay? I know exactly what you're thinking. And I know it's corny, but look, if we didn't think you were worth it, do you think we would've stuck around ya?" Daxter was notorious for his ability to ruin serious moments(even ones he created), and was doing it now by giving Jak his signature smartass smirk-grin.

Jak snorted. "Whatever, Dax." He stood, and walked to the window, peering out at the city he was happy he would be leaving. "I just don't know if Keira thinks I love her as much as I do. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything ever happened to her." He figured it'd be okay to say that much.

He thought he heard a door click down the hall, but he didn't think much of it.

"Oh, and I need a favor, Dax."

"What's that?" Daxter replied, tilting his head to the side. "Relationship advice? A mood boost? Want a sandwich?"

"No. Can you pull all this damn glass outta my back?"

* * *

Poor Daxter. Darn, I really need to get these in faster. Oh, and if you have an account, please review. That way at least, I'll know if I'm doing something horribly wrong. Or if I'm doing something horribly right. Or if my theory on how dark eco works is cracky. Or...whatever. 


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